


Adapt and Experiment

by Jarakrisafis



Series: Oath and Covenant [4]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Multi, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-09
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-03 08:58:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/379595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jarakrisafis/pseuds/Jarakrisafis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follows the end of Pt.1 and the start of Pt.2</p><p>Technological adaptations (alt modes), used to imitate a planets mechanical advancement, are not the only way Cybertronians blend in. They also modify coding and protoform to emulate the dominant culture and give themselves a better understanding of how the planetary inhabitants will react.<br/>Humans are a very strange culture indeed...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beta Testing

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on the Transformers kink meme on LJ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Figuring out new modifications every time they land on a new planet always ends up as the medics job, not that Ratchet's really complaining.
> 
> Ratchet/Teletraan

"TELETRAAN!" Autobots in the vicinity ducked and covered, Mirage even going so far as to disappear completely as Ratchet stormed through the corridors of the Ark. Whatever the ship had done this time, they didn't want to be around since witnesses could quite easily become victims of the CMO's formidable wrath, especially when something was threatening damage to the mechs in his charge.

Teletraan had the sense to keep quiet until Ratchet stalked into his command centre, Blaster taking one look at the irate medic and fleeing his post, he could monitor the frequencies from the secondary control centre just as easily. 

"You yelled, Ratchet." The sparked ship said as Ratchet placed both hands on his hips and glared at the main screen. 

"What have I told you about modifications?" Teletraan was silent for a long moment before the answer of what exactly the medic was so peeved with came to the forefront of his databanks. 

"Oh." The main screen rippled with colour, "that modification." Ratchet huffed and slipped into a seat as he correctly interpreted the light red colouring the screen as contrition. 

"Yes, that modification." The medic rubbed his chevron with a weary air of resignation. "Do you remember what happened when we landed on 5GY68H?" 

Teletraan's screen flickered with hints of amused orange. "Yes. It was really quite funny to watch." 

Ratchet sniffed in disdain, then caught himself and flicked his outer plating to convey the same meaning. "You didn't have to spend half your online hours, cycles even, untangling tentacles." The medic grimaced as he once again reverted to a human term instead of a Cybertronian one. 

Some mechs were better at adapting and blending in than others. Blaster and Jazz for example were already happily using Earth phrases and idioms after only a little while, their new coding meshing seamlessly with their Cybertronian base code. Ratchet on the other hand took a little longer to integrate things, something that amused Teletraan no end as his coding conflicts often left him ricocheting between alien and Cybertronian responses in the same conversation. 

"No. I didn't. But you have to admit that the tentacles were fun when they weren't tangled." 

Ratchet glared some more before the corners of his mouth quirked upwards. "Fine. Yes, they were fun and I'm sorry that we had to remove the coding when we left. Happy?" 

"Very." The ship rumbled. "And that is why you aren't going to be mad at me for this mod either." 

Ratchet lifted one metallic brow, his optics brightening slightly before his shoulders slumped again. "But I'll have to teach the entire crew about the new coding changes." It went unsaid that it was because the rest of the crew wouldn't even notice the new coding unless it was highlighted with sparkling shiny glyphs saying 'look here, new code, read me'. And while he had enjoyed teaching them about the tentacles, and how best to use them, he hadn't gotten a good recharge cycle for far too long as the Ark held a fair few mechs. 

Teletraan's main screen darkened, the orange of amusement changing into anticipation. "Maybe you should test it while you're here, since I installed it and all, then you'll be able to just give the rest of the crew a datapack to read." The click of an opening dataport beside the screen was loud and it was also a very obvious invitation. 

Ratchet tilted his helm at the screen before picking the seat up and moving closer to the wall so that he could hook up his datalink cable. Settling back into the padding he waited for his systems to accept the feeling of having Teletraan's huge databanks hovering at the edge of his processor. 

**Okay, so, I based this on the humans, dominant species and all that.** Teletraan's mental voice was even more impressive than his physical one as he seemed to curl around Ratchet's processor. **All you need to do is activate this.** He nudged at a line of coding, letting Ratchet authorise the code when it asked if he wanted to go ahead. 

**That's different.** The medic said as he prodded the exposed protoform underneath a panel which had retracted from between his legs into the surrounding plating before he stiffened, jerking his finger away to stare at it and then down at his frame. **Are you sure that is meant to happen?**

**Absolutely.** Teletraan purred. **I set the threshold limits based on my research into human mating habits.**

**They seem rather high.** Ratchet remarked as he returned to his exploration, his cooling fans whirring up as he traced around the edge of... something that sent electric tingles running through his frame. 

**And.** Ratchet added as he ran his other hand across his leg. **My sensors are giving the strangest readings.**

**Still operating within correct parameters.** Teletraan reported, the glyphs coloured with smug glee. **Humans are a very tactile species.**

Ratchet blinked, his optics flickering as he thought about that. **How the slag do they get anything done if every touch is pleasurable, they can't turn interfacing protocols on and off.**

Teletraan would have answered, but Ratchet chose that moment to test what was inside his new valve and the feedback along the more traditional Cybertronian interfacing link made him lose the thread of whatever he was about to say. Instead he settled for: **Do that again.**

Not that the medic needed much prompting as he curled his finger, probing at the soft metallic walls, feeling hundreds of tiny plates attempting to constrict around his finger as simple contact fired off more sensors than should be necessary. Not to mention the secondary feedback from the sensors in his fingers and the conductive fluid starting to coat the inner walls of the valve. 

Teletraan purred in his mind as Ratchet shunted the sensor data to him, letting it bounce between them in an expanding feedback loop. Energy started to crackle over plating, short bursts of static jumping from Ratchet to the nearest surface and faint arcs were glowing across the access panels to Teletraan's spark. 

Both mech and ship yelped as Ratchet decided to try and see what adding a second finger to the valve would do. The answer was a shuddering warble of static from the medic and a confused jumble of colours flashing across the main screen as Ratchet acted on some instinctual part of the coding, and shifted his hips to a better angle. 

**I think I've found a new favourite species.** Teletraan managed to get out between the waves of energy flowing off the medic as he thrust his fingers in and out of his new equipment. 

It was the last thing either of them said as energy crackled across the medic, his systems abruptly entering an emergency shutdown to avoid damage. The feedback made Teletraan shudder and while he managed to remain online their was a brief moment where he did lose control. No doubt exactly what he and Ratchet were doing would now be obvious after the very suspicious moment of flickering lights and viewscreens. 

**I take it all back 'Traan. You are a genius.** Ratchet finally managed as he got his systems under control and the warning messages on his HUD deleted, he was well aware that his vents weren't cycling the warm atmosphere away from his spark quick enough. 

**Why thank you.** The ship sounded far too smug as he highlighted another section of coding amongst the newly installed interfacing protocols. **But just wait till you try this.**

Ratchet frowned as he looked at the code, the simple question flashing at him; _Extend spike? Y/N_ before he shrugged, Teletraan hadn't been wrong about the last thing. 

_Yes_


	2. Thrill of the Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is all Teletraans fault. Ravage will tell you that. But the fact that she likes the changes. No, _that_ she isn't telling.
> 
> Ravage/Steeljaw

This is wrong.

Very wrong. 

But so very right. 

Teletraans fault. It has to be. The sparked ship was the only thing that could have enforced such wide ranging code changes onto a mech. 

But why these changes. What had he based the coding on that was giving me such an urge to lead my mate on such a chase. 

Since when is Steeljaw my mate? 

Slag it all. Best infiltrator the Decepticons have and my own coding seems to think it's a good idea to turn tail and run from a half wired quadruped who isn't even half as good as I am. 

I snarl as I dodge around a rocky outcropping, jumping up to look around and spot my pursuer. I am not some organic beast, no matter what my coding seems to think. I am Cybertronian and I will fight rather than submit. 

I can feel my tail lashing behind me as Steeljaw winds his way across the landscape, his head down as he tracks me. 

::Ravage.:: His comm is nothing more than my base designation as he suddenly stops, the sensor ruff around his neck flaring as he picks up my signal. ::Ravage?:: And then again with a strange modifier, feminine singular, and there is a wealth of meaning behind that glyph: desire/want/need/admiration. 

I'm not the only one to be acting on some strange organic designed urges as he flares his ruff out even more, the armour panels making him look so much more impressive than he is and he practically shines in the bright sunlight as he poses. 

::Steeljaw.:: I reply, my own tone filled with interest/intrigue/attraction/curiosity and I barely realise that I have also added an extra glyph, masculine, the tones of leader/alpha/boss carried with it. 

He stalks forward, wary, and rightly so for I am still a Decepticon, even if we are actually well matched in a fight, but also proud, sure of himself and his right to approach. 

I curse Teletraan again as my coding whispers treacherous thoughts at me, to submit, accept, obey, yield, and I have already jumped down from my perch before I catch myself, a static laden hiss emerging from my vocaliser before he gets too close. 

::I know you are feeling this too, Ravage.:: One golden paw waves in my direction as he lets his ruff settle slightly. ::Can we not set aside factions for a while?:: 

Yes, my coding says, and I almost blurt that out before my processor catches up and shouts no. But then something in me rebels, if I say no I could get very lonely, its not as if quadruped symbiotes were common on Cybertron, let alone on Earth and I have never advertised my independent thought, most Decepticons still see me as merely an extension of Soundwave's will. 

::If you want me, you'll have to catch me.:: I am moving before the comm. has finished, glyphs echoing down our link offering promises as I spring away. 

Even in my base coding the instinct to hunt is strong and it never fails to raise my charge, but never have I been the prey and yet I can still feel electricity building, curling around my wires as I run. 

Steeljaw is a solid presence behind me, his sensor ping showing that he is following me as I wind around rocks and organic vegetation. 

One mistake is all it would take for the chase to end, and it is I that makes it. Rocks scattering under my paws as I lose traction, my claws extended and digging into the earth to try and gain back my momentum. 

But it is not to be as Steeljaw crashes into me, his weight bearing me back to the floor as we writhe, I trying to escape, while he tries to pin my flailing limbs. 

And then I still. 

Instinct I didn't even know I had freezing my joints. 

::Got you.:: His comm. does not carry the smugness I expected, merely anticipation and an undercurrent of heat and longing. I squirm beneath him but the teeth firmly embedded in my upper neck armour keep me in place far easier than they should, my coding screaming that this is right, that this is how it should be. 

His chirr of satisfaction almost masks the whirring click of transformation, but it triggers something in my coding and I can feel one of my own armour panels transforming and folding out of the way, leaving bare protoform beneath. 

And then. Then. There is nothing that I have felt before that would describe the sensation. Hot, electric, a solid invasion of my very self and yet it is right in a way that I cannot understand. 

Steeljaw growls, the sound vibrating through my neck and down to my spark as he moves, heat rushing through my frame far faster than I expect and our fans are loud as they spin up, working to dump the heat we are creating. 

This is so different from Cybertronian interfacing, but I can't help but shift beneath him, giving him better access, enhancing the pleasure that is rolling across my processor from my sensors with every snapping thrust of his hips. 

Too soon it peaks, my frame going limp as electricity pours over my frame in a wave, the charge finally too great to be contained and it is only Steeljaw's grip that holds me up before everything resets. 

I am glad that he reaches his peak soon after, for I am not sure my frame could have taken a second overload so close to the first without being cooled down. 

He howls as he comes, the warmth of liquid being pushed into me unfamiliar and I notice that his teeth are no longer fastened on me and I whirl around, claws lashing out at his muzzle. 

He yelps as he stares at me, the faint marring of his paint showing that he had mostly ducked in time, despite being distracted. ::What was that for?:: He asks as he rubs the scratches with a paw. 

Why had I done that? I have to confess that I have no idea, except it seemed the right thing to do. I shrug, my armour rippling as I transmit several wordless glyphs, amusement and contrition formost as I ponder my answer. In the end there is only one good reason that I can come up with and it seems to explain the entire episode, ::coding instinct.:: 


	3. Live the Beat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz always likes exploring new cultures, some of them are able to do the most fascinating things.
> 
> Jazz/Blaster

Metal twisted under the low light as he span around, slowly, so very slowly, the movements melding to the melody playing in the background.

Spin 

Twist. 

Dip. 

All so carefully controlled, a show of strength and precision. 

Each movement calculated to show off his frame, a flicker of armour, a quick flash of protoform showing between plating, the wash of a light electromagnetic field extending. 

Enough. 

But he spins away from the grasping fingers, his own hand pointing imperiously back at the chair. The meaning quite clear as he stays still, barely swaying to the music until he is obeyed. Sit and watch. Look but don't touch. 

He grins as he changes the music, something faster, harder and he moves accordingly, like quicksilver, black and white merging together like liquid, motions flowing in ways that a Cybertronian would never have dreamed of moving. 

But it works. 

Sleek and sinuous, like a cybercat, as he winds around the chair, one finger barely brushing across heated metal before he is dancing away again, out of reach. 

Then he raises his hand, fingers brushing across his lips, down, around his throat, ghosting over armour till they rest on black paint, suggestion and temptation all in one. 

The click of his panel opening was lost in the music as he rolled his hips, closing in, each step an example in how to seduce a mech until he was all but sitting down as he undulated. 

A hiss of frustration cuts the air and hands move towards the metal that is so very close before they drop again, curling into fists. It is hard to hear the music now, through the whirr of fans and the faint static laden whine rising in volume, showing the need to touch, to connect, not sit back and watch. 

But he just grins as he leans backwards, ignoring the static charge that is starting to flicker over his plating as he dips a finger into his valve. Fans kick up a notch as the finger is raised, so very slowly to his mouth, his glossa curling around it. 

It is too much, new protocols making so many things arousing. The heavy beat of the music vibrating through to the spark, the play of air across the bared valve that had opened long ago of its own accord, the scent of the lubricant in the atmosphere, the sight of the black and white demon cleaning his own fluids from one finely crafted finger. 

Once the error messages are cleared and as optics refocus the first thing seen is the smirk on his face and then the weight of his frame across sensitive plating registers and Blaster can't help but run hands over the armour that is finally within reach. “Slag Jazz. Where d'ya learn to do that?” 

He just lets his visor wink off on one side before brightening it again. “That's my secret.” 


	4. For Science?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all started because Skyfire was curious as to why Wheeljack had chosen to use a female identity...
> 
> Skyfire/Wheeljack

"I still think it's a little strange." Skyfire said as he leant over the bench that Wheeljack was using to dismantle some contraption or other. "If you look at human females they are shown to be the weaker of the two sexes, I just don't understand why you would choose to identify as a female."

"Why not?" Wheeljack said as she looked up from the innards of the device. "Human females may be physically weaker, but their minds are just the same as their male gendered counterparts and many sources say that a woman is the more dangerous of the two sexes."

Skyfire nodded as he contemplated that fact, after all, Wheeljack came up with inventions that could easily dismantle larger mechs. "I suppose that makes a sort of sense." The shuttle propped his helm up on one hand as he stared at his smaller companion. "I used to do scouting and advance reconnaisonce. The meet and greet was handled by others."

"You didn't really have to do the meet and greet here either." Wheeljack pointed out, not looking up from the wires she was soldering.

Skyfire frowned. "True, but what I actually meant was that I've never been modded to fit in with an alien species before, but Ratchet and Teletraan insisted."

Indicators once meant for communicating in deep space around nebula and gas clouds that could block communication lines flickered. Even though Wheeljack was now planet bound the meaning behind the colours and sequences had not changed, and Skyfire himself was a deep space shuttle, he knew the almost but not quite a full language that could be transmitted. Wheeljack was, to borrow a human phrase that seemed especially fitting, rolling on the floor laughing her aft off. Skyfire huffed, atmosphere gusting out of his vents as he watched her try to get a hold of herself.

"It's not that funny." He protested once she calmed down.

Wheeljack nodded. "Sorry, but I just had this image of Ratchet dragging you all the way to Teletraans central hub so that they could get you modded."

The shuttle chuckled. "Except for being dragged that does sound about right."

"So what do you think of the mods?" Wheeljack asked, her project pushed to one side as she hopped up to sit on the bench.

"I have no idea."

Wheeljack just raised one metallic eyebrow, the flexible metal plates shifting into a configuration that Skyfire had never seen before, but the data recently dumped into his databanks informed him that the expression was meant to convey disbelief or skepticism. "As in, I've not tried them." the shuttle clarified before she could say anything.

"At all?"

"Ratchet showed me the basic mechanics. But I'm not sure that it'll work with the size difference." The shuttle flicked his wings as Wheeljack tilted her helm, audial fins glowing a soft lilac.

"It should still work. 'Traan said that he took the different frame types into account." Indicators flared into a deeper purple as Wheeljack smirked. "For science? To make sure that Teletraan was right."

Skyfire couldn't help but chuckle at the blatant proposition and the grin stretching across Wheeljack's face, no trace of modesty anywhere on her frame. "I suppose we really should ensure that a full experiment has been conducted."

She nodded as she jumped down off the bench and headed for the door, "Well, what are you waiting for?" Skyfire just shook his helm as he followed the inventor through the corridors before deftly steering her towards his own quarters. For one, there were rumours that Wheeljack kept some of her projects in her quarters, and another reason was that SKyfire was pretty sure that her berth wouldn't be big enough.

She didn't protest the direction change, bounding into the larger room before turning back around, bouncing on the edge of her stabilisers as Skyfire stopped once the door had closed behind him. "Oh, come over here and stop looking so nervous." Skyfire stilled his wings which were twitching subconciously before he strode over to the berth and lay down, Wheeljack climbing up to join him with a rainbow of excited lights as she settled herself above him,.

"Open up." She tapped the armour hiding the new mods and Skyfire delved into his own coding to activate things, the soft click and whirr of transformation quickly following.

He shuddered as he felt a scan wash across his frame leaving his sensors tingling. Wheeljack seemed oblivious to what she had just done until Skyfire realised she probably was. Both she and the other scientist, Perceptor, and of course Hoist and Ratchet had scans set up to run automatically. At normal settings most Cybertronians wouldn't even register the scan, and even with the war causing mechs to run with a higher sensor sensitivity it would still barely register as having happened.

But now it was like a full frame caress leaving every sensor humming with power and a burst of static escaped Wheeljack as she was pulled down to Skyfire's chest, the larger mech rumbling happily at the contact.

"Never would have taken you for a cuddler." Wheeljack said as she wrapped her arms around the large shoulders, one hand trailing along the small section of wing that she could reach.

"I'm not." The jet growled, keeping one arm across the smaller mechs back, effectively pinning her in place. "Normally." He amended as Wheeljack wiggled, the action only causing the arm to tighten as pressure sensors registered the movement. Each sensor picking up far more than normal and heat curled around his frame as the data was bundled up and sent on to his main processor. The delicate wiring just wasn't made to support so much information.

"You know, if you don't let me up we aren't going to get anywhere." Wheeljack said in a reasonable tone from somewhere near his neck, her face buried against his armour, but it was enough to make him reluctantly allow the inventor to sit up again. 

"So, how are we going to go about this?" Skyfire asked as he peered down his frame, Ratchet's basic 'how to not frag yourself up and end up in medbay' lecture was helpful only in that it said what to avoid doing.

"First..." Fingers slipped under the edge of armour panelling right above his valve opening before the armour slid back, and Wheeljack grinned, "First, I show you that I worked out where the manual release is."

Skyfire chuckled as several warnings flashed over his HUD telling him that his upper interface panelling was open and the coding inactive. He did the only thing any sensible mech would and activated it. Wheeljack just smirked as she trailed a hand over the newly extended spike.

“I think I understood enough of Ratch's lecture to get the next part.” Skyfire murmered as he curled his hands around Wheeljack as she did something that should be illegal for several planetary systems with the way his new protocols were acting. Wheeljack tilted her helm,optics fastening onto his in a silent question, although her hands never stilled. “First...” With such a greater strength and mass it was little effort to keep Jack pressed against his frame as he sat up and then twisted around before lowering her to the berth. “First, you lie back and relax.”

She laughed at having her own tone turned against her as she spread her legs, hips wiggling in obvious invitation.

He wasn't a mech to ignore such a blatant display of eagerness, and his enthusiasm was only tempered by lack of practice. He had of course tried out his own modifications, but this was the first time he had joined with another mech. Although that didn't seem to be a problem as Wheeljack shuddered, her audial fins flickering through several colours, never settling on one shade for long as he explored her valve.

The tiny plates making up the walls tightening as 'Jack lifted her hips and pushed against the intrusion, a clear demand for more. Skyfire chuckled as he used his free hand to press the inventors hips onto the berth, the whine of protest at his continued teasing making him smirk.

Control. It was something drilled into every mech with aerial capabilities. Lack of control could be deadly. It was also something Wheeljack lacked, as shown by her numerous explosions when her patience with an experiment ran thin and she took shortcuts. 

Besides, the humans had a good phrase for moments like this. “Good things come to those who wait 'Jack.” Not that the smaller mech seemed to be in any state to process the phrase, Skyfire could feel the heat emanating from the chassis beneath him

Heat enough perhaps that if he curled his finger... he grinned as Wheeljack's optics flickered off rather than letting large amounts of energy flow through the delicate components.

“Slag.” Wheeljack said as she wrestled her vocaliser back under control, her optics snapping back online to look at the larger shuttle. “And you say you were a surveyor rather than a first contact scout?”

“I learn quickly.” The larger mech said as he lifted his hand of her chest, letting her rock onto his fingers still buried in his valve. And then she froze as she realised that he did indeed have two of his very large digits buried in her valve and that was why she was heating up again so fast.

“Slagging glitch.” She said around static as he wiggled his fingers, clearly having taken advantage of her relaxing after overload.

“But you love me anyway?”

“Something like that.” Wheeljack was quite proud that she managed all three words without a hitch, but the whole; show the shuttle how to interface with the new mods, had ended up as; get 'faced into stasis by the shuttle, a while back.

Actually, she knew exactly when she'd lost control of the situation, it was when he got those clever fingers near her valve and his was out of reach. Not that she was complaining. At all.

“Think you're ready?” Skyfire asked, gently pulling his fingers out and stroking his spike. 'Jack had to suppress her whimper as she nodded, relaxing as he slowly lined up, his spike pushing against the walls of her valve.

Each plate shifting, relaxing, but not quick enough as the sensors registered every expansion, only her stubbornness stopping her from tumbling into another overload as her hands grasped at the frame above, anchoring her whirling processor.

Pain? Perhaps, the modifications to her sensors were already ramped so high it seemed to make no difference, the pleasure/pain/need/want burning across her sensor net in a wave.

“Shhhhh.” She clung to the sound, the vibrations thrumming through her frame as she realised that she was keening, a wordless plea to... what? Move? Stop? Get out? 

And then he moved, slowly, gently, the small thrust of his hips still driving her into the padding on the berth and she knew the answer to that question. The realisation that she wouldn't last long was not a hard conclusion to come to. Not filled like this, every sensor awash with data, every sensor attuned to the shuttle looming above her helm.

Nor perhaps will he, as his internal fans are working loudly to dump heat and his vocaliser emits a garbled string of static that might at one time have meant something in Cybertronian.

The end when it comes washes her vision in a silver white haze as systems shut down one after another to protect circuits from damage. He last thought, before she enters stasis, is that once she thought that if she extinguished she'd want to go in a fiery conflagration of her own making. Now she's not too sure, being 'faced to deactivation could be a viable alternative.


	5. Old dogs, New tricks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hoist has an idea. Ratchet gets to test it.
> 
> Hoist/Ratchet

“Ratchet, if you don't clear out of medbay and stay out until it is officially your next shift I'll tie you to your berth so that you have nothing to do but recharge.”

He seems surprised to see me as dulled optics flash as he resets them to focus on me rather than his screen which I am blocking with a hand. He is silent for a moment and I can see him processing my statement before his optics brighten even more and a small smirk curls the edge of his mouth. “You will, will you?” He props his helm up with one hand, the smirk growing as he waits for my next move.

“I will.” I say before realising the one minor flaw in my plan. There is no way I can get Ratchet to a berth if he doesn't want to go, he has several tons of mass on me. Time for a rethink. “Alternatively, I could just tie you to that chair and tell Teletraan to cut all power in here.”

He blinks as power is diverted away from his optics to other systems, most likely processing power, for a brief moment as he thinks through my ultimatum. “You wouldn't dare.”

I lift one optical ridge, the range of emotions that humans can convey working in my favour as the small movement hosts a wealth of meanings, 'You want to bet?' Being first and foremost among them.

Ratchet apparently comes to that conclusion on his own as he flicks the switch for the screen and stands up, his joints grinding as he stretches. “Lead on then.”

I grin in victory as we leave medbay, a quick comm ping dulling the lights behind us and logging my status as 'on call'. It gets very tedious between battles with so few mechs on board; until the next shipment of metals arrives there is nothing to do except the padwork that Ratchet had been staring blankly at for the past human hour.

“Berth.” I order as soon as we reach his quarters, before he can settle into a chair, especially his desk chair which has access to the same files he was looking at in medbay. His heavy tread lets me know that I am being obeyed as I rummage around in one of his storage cupboards.

“Oh, come on. I got out of medbay.” He says as I turn around and head over to his side where he has sprawled on the berth.

I just chuckle. “You should know better than to try and call my bluff.” He huffs as I deposit several loops of metallic rope onto the berth, but he also doesn't protest as I motion for him to sit up and turn away from me.

“I should forget to refuel and recharge more often.” Ratchet said as I pulled one arm behind his back and looped several strands around his wrists, creating a cuff of coiled metal.

“You say that every time.” I remind him as I repeat the motion with the other arm until his wrists are bound together behind his back. It is loose enough that I won't need to remove it too quickly lest I want to replace crushed energon capillaries, but tight enough that he can't wiggle out of it, even with creative transformations. “Don't move.”

He holds still as I unspool a data cord and plug in to his medical access port and block several lines of data input before logging back out of his processor. “Lie down and turn your interfacing protocols on.” I guide him till he is comfortable, his spinal struts arched gently over his bound wrists.

“What are you doing?” I knew he wouldn't be able to stifle his curiosity for long and I run a hand across a cheek as he turns greyed out optics in my direction.

“Something the dominant species on this world seems to enjoy. It occurred to me it should work quite well with the higher sensor readings from the mods.” Supplies set up I smirk, despite his inability to see it. Yes, this should work quite well.

“What should worzzzzzzzzzzkkkt!” I can't help but smirk as his fans spin up almost immediately as he resets his vocaliser. “What was that?” Silence for a sparkbeat before he speaks up again “Never-mind, do it again.”

“Hot wax.” I let a small stream drip onto his wind-shield, carefully avoiding armour seams for the moment as I get the hang of his reactions. “And just think Ratch, that was on some of your least sensitive armour.” He shudders at my words, and at each drop of heat against his chassis. The initial clamping into his body, a typical reaction to painful stimuli, and almost immediate after the flare of armour panels away from inner circuitry to circulate cooler atmosphere. “Can you imagine what it would feel like on some of the other sensors?”

“You wouldn't.”

“Wouldn't I?” I trail a hand across his chest and he presses up into the contact with a static filled moan. Primus, but I love these mods.

I let it cool a little before purposefully letting some sink into his shoulder joint. His reaction is all I hoped for as he arches off the berth, a whimper escaping his vocaliser before he mutes himself. Possibly a little too hot, but he hasn't stopped me, and he always has enjoyed interfacing just shy of pain.

I move on to another seam, my free hand pressing him down to the berth as he twitches, the heat of his systems stopping it from cooling straight away, instead it is free to drip through wiring and splash onto protoform.

His scream as he overloads is only half suppressed and he shudders, armour rattling as his frame comes down from it's high, his processor rebooting secondary functions which it had shut down to protect from the energy surge.

I run an appreciative hand across his red and white frame, now streaked and splattered with blues and greens as he finally relaxes into the caress. The tightly coiled tension that had been surrounding him bled out with the excess energy and I finally let my own interfacing protocols roar online as I no longer need to monitor his vitals.

A lazy grin appears as I clamber up onto the berth and quickly plug into his processor and unlock his optical array from lock-down. He obligingly spreads his legs as his optics light up again to focus on me and it is all I can do not to laugh. For a mech who professes not to like the cultural modifications, he does seem to be enjoying himself.

“Well.” He finally says as he lifts his hips as best he can, a clear invitation to me to stop dust gathering on my motherboard and frag him already. I trail my hand across his new colours again before doing as he is so subtly asking, whatever he was about to say, going unsaid as it turns into a buzz of happiness that joins my rumbling purr of pleasure.


	6. Necessary Analysis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New modifications could be a tactical advantage (or possibly, disadvantage) and must be explored, just in case...
> 
> Ratchet/Prowl

“Ratchet.” Prowl's flat tone cut through the medbay as the mech in question raised his optics from his view-screen. “Dare I ask what Teletraan has seen fit to gift us with this time?”

Ratchet chuckled, the human sound joining the amused glyphs he was transmitting on a short-length comm band. He was well used to the tactician and his ways, and while he sounded annoyed, his sensor panels were communicating a resigned amusement. “Nothing as bad as the tentacle fiasco.” He reassured the black and white mech. 

The panels twitched as Prowl obviously brought up some of the associated memories at their mention. “It couldn't get much worse than that.” 

“More tentacles?” Ratchet said with a wicked smirk as he closed down the files he was working on and stood up. Prowl shook his helm as he stepped back to let Ratchet stretch out his cables, several gears grinding over each other as he rotated them. “I assume you're here for a demonstration?” 

“If I don't know what the subroutines do, they could be a liability in a fight if they get switched on by accident.” He didn't have to bring up the tentacles again, the image of Megatron and Optimus tangled together and cursing up a storm as they tried to both separate themselves without overloading and trying not to let the other get in a sneaky attack was burned into every processor that had been planetside at the time. 

“Isolation ward two.” Ratchet said, not at all phased by the logical reason, Prowl was pure Cybertronian, exploration was not something he had ever considered as a career and the cultural adaptations were still something he tolerated rather than welcomed for the most part. 

A quick comm ping at the door ensured that they wouldn't be bothered short of Red Alert calling a full scale assault. 

“Position?” Prowl looked around the room before back at Ratchet for instructions. 

“From the image recordings Teletraan so graciously shared, anything seems to work, but lying down seems to be the most common. Face up.” He added as Prowl hesitated. 

“Now what?” The tactician asked as he settled is sensor panels on the berth, waiting for the material to conform to his frame. 

“It's a two part activation code, trigger the first part and I'll show you what it does.” 

The snick of Prowl's panelling transforming showed that he had found the correct code. “Interesting.” Was all he said as Ratchet joined him on the berth. 

“Right. The first thing to notice is the enhanced sensor readings, they have been ramped up to threshold levels.” 

“Dangerous. That overloads sensors and creates charge that is hard to dissipate.” 

Ratchet grinned as he trailed a hand across the black and white armour. “In this case, that's the main aim.” 

“I see.” Prowl said as he shifted underneath the medic. “And the modification?” One hand gestured downwards. 

“Valve.” Ratchet said. “Teletraan named it.” He added at the raised optical brow. The other quickly joined it as Ratchet ran a finger round the edge of the modification. 

“Do I want to know how many sensors Teletraan thought was appropriate?” The flat tone was strained and the sound of fans spinning up was loud in the small room. 

“Probably not.” Ratchet returned as he pushed a finger into the valve, feeling the walls clamp down in a wave. 

Prowl hissed, his optics a few shades brighter than normal. “And what exactly does the second part of the code do?” 

“Test it and see.” Ratchet smirked as he wrapped his hand that wasn't busy with the tacticians valve around the extending spike. 

“Oh.” Prowl finally got out after a false start where all he managed was static. “I see what Teletraan meant about humans being a bi-gendered species. 

Ratchet gave a rather undignified squeak as he was rather abruptly flipped onto his back. “Get your protocols online.” Prowl tapped at his armour until it slid out of the way. “This as simple as it appears?” 

“Spike A into valve B, continue until overload.” 

Sensor panels twitched at the medic's sarcasm before he clarified his question. “Any preparation required?” 

“Make sure your partner has a well lubricated valve and that it is stretching enough to accommodate your spike.” Ratchet smirked as Prowl looked down, apparently unsure how yto go about that task and the medic finally took pity on him. “I'm ready. Had half the mechs on the Ark in here asking questions and wanting demonstrations.” 

Prowl didn't answer as he lined up his spike and slowly slid it in till his pelvic armour fetched up against Ratchet's. A low burst of static escaped his vocaliser as he stilled, sensor panels quivering until he had regained some of his vaunted control. 

“Intense.” He finally said as he planted his hands onto Ratchet's shoulders and rocked his hips, the pleased chirr from below making the corners of his mouth turn up into a small smile. “You're enjoying this aspect of your job aren't you?” 

“Definitely.” He lifted his hips, urging the tactician to pick up the pace. “Most planets aren't anywhere near this hedonistic. Mating for pleasure rather than to procreate is quite rare on organic worlds.” 

“Resources on this world are abundant.” Prowl returned, his tone only slightly tinged with static as he kept to his slow rhythm despite Ratchet urging otherwise as he tried different angles until he found one that got him a whimper. 

Sensor panels hitched upwards with smug amusement as Ratchet whimpered again, his hands clamping around black hips in another effort to force a faster pace. His frustrations and need swept through his electromagnetic field when Prowl refused to comply. Each slow thrust letting the charge rise in a rolling wave, washing across his circuits in a tingling burst of pleasure. 

Overload, when it hit, almost caught him by surprise, the charge overwhelming his data processor with reports and for a short moment every thing registered as pleasure before the world faded into static. Only a vague sensation letting him know that the excess charge had jumped to Ratchet as the medic arched beneath him. 

Ratchet had already rebooted when he onlined again and was watching him with a bright optics, one hand stroking over a twitching sensor panel. “Well?” The medic asked in a lazy tone, his fingers working their way into a far too sensitive joint. 

Prowl traced over the indents he had left on the medics shoulders as he carefully sat up, mindful of the fact that his spike was still buried in the medics valve. The movement making Ratchet's steady venting hitch. “I think I need to make a few more tests to ensure there are no hidden subroutines.” Prowl said with a completely straight face, only the smallest curl of his mouth giving him away as Ratchet grinned, clearly happy to have yet another convert. 


	7. Necessary Education I

First Aid really did miss out on far to much because of the war. This wasn't the first time I've thought this, but this is the first time I've realised that he was never introduced to the, ah, other side of the medical apprentice's lifestyle. Of course the Academy is long gone, but rumours still abound.

As evidenced by the bright scandalised glow in First Aid's optical band as he is guided into the office. Ratchet smirks at me across his helm and I can just imagine what he is thinking. ::We've been remiss in some of our duties.:: He sends across a tightly encrypted channel as the Protectobot sips at the energon cube that has been placed in his hands.

"That. They. But. How could they think so lowly of you?!" His outraged exclamation is coupled with the tinges of horrified embarrassment still swirling in his elecromagnetic field. "You would never do anything like that!" Having only overheard the end of the conversation I am a little at a loss as to exactly what was said before I entered the medbay for my shift that had First Aid of all bots chasing his unlucky victim out with a spanner.

"Feeling any better?" With First Aid's attention turned to me he doesn't notice Ratchet attempting to mask a self satisfied smirk, and I must admit I am hard pressed not to give in to my own amusement about how ridiculous the entire situation is. "I'm sure it can't be that bad." I manage, which only makes Ratchet's smirk grow even wider as his armour shakes in suppressed mirth and First Aid nearly chokes on a sip of energon as he nods.

"They said that you and Ratchet were..." I can feel the embarrassment rise in his field as he goes quiet, obviously unable to repeat what he had heard.

Thankfully Ratchet has no such issue in relating the conversation, most likely word for word.

"Ah." I finally say. We really should remedy this gap in such an important part of his education. The only problem will be how to go about it.

"Ah?" He repeats, finally twisting to look at Ratchet who has at least composed himself and managed to reduce the slag eating smirk down to only a small grin. Silence reigns in the office as he looks between the two of us. "What aren't you telling me?"

I am once again quite thankful for Ratchet's complete lack of tact as he speaks up. "That the rumours are true."

First Aid turns back to me, the fact that he is waiting for me to deny it or at least give the punchline of the joke is clear. "Actually, I don't think the rumours do us justice." I must admit to feeling somewhat mean as he continues to stare at me, shock clearly written in every line of his armour.

Obviously having his two mentors own up to having partaken in some exceedingly kinky orgies isn't what he was expecting. How he's managed to miss those rumours for so long I have no idea. Pit, Jazz still has a tendency to make whipcracking noises from time to time after he found me and Ratch in one of the storage bays.

Ratchet finally edges around Aid so that he can hop up onto his desk letting the Protectobot see both of us without having to twist around. "The medical academy was always pretty wild." He stared at the ceiling for a moment. "After the first orn of classroom teaching we started our internships at various medical centres before apprenticing out to older medics." I remembered that, I'd been a fresh new intern when Ratchet had been finishing his apprenticeship.

"It was an almost unwritten rule that we looked after each other." He paused again, looking down at First Aid. ::I sometimes forget how young he is.:: The comm is unexpected but I have to agree. Aid is barely at the age that we were when we entered the Academy, war has made him grow up far too early.

"We try our best, but there will come a time when we can't save them all." Not since Aid came online have we lost a mech in the medbay. There have been casualties out on the battlefield, but not under our watch. We haven't had to deal with that yet. "Interfacing is a good way to forget, to remind us that there is still something to live for." Ratchet's reminiscing turns back into amusement. "I suppose somewhere in the history of the Academy it went from quiet comforting to outright kinky 'facing wherever they could."

"Oh." Is all First Aid can muster before something clearly occurs to him. "They were talking about medics... they must think that I do that." I don't think his optical band could get any brighter as he flicks his gaze betwween the two of us.

Ratchet lets his field flare with his laughter for a moment before turning a serious gaze onto the younger bot. "I wouldn't say no if you wanted to. Neither, I think, would Hoist."

I shake my helm but I'm not sure he notices as he turns his gaze to his lap, his hands curling around the empty energon cube. "I've never interfaced before." He says so quietly I have to boost my audio to compensate.

"Ever?" Ratchet asks, surprise briefly lacing his energy field, as I'm sure it is mine. I had been sure that the Protectobots had at least played around.

"The rest have, but I was always busy." He admits as Ratchet slips off the table to crouch in front of him. The older mech doesn't get a chance to say anything though as First Aid raises his helm, his energy field filled with determination. "I think I'd like you to show me." It wavers with a faint thread of uncertainty as he glances over at me. "Both of you?"

"we'd love to Aid." Ratchet answers for both of us. "Come to my quarters tonight, Wheeljack has the night shift in here after that stunt he pulled last week so we're all off duty together."

It is only once the younger mech is out of medbay that my comm opens up, images and ideas spilling across our link and it is all I can do not to go and grab a cube of high grade. In fact the small issue of being on duty is the only thing stopping me. Ratchet, having just finished his shift has no such problem and he grabs a small cube before exiting the medbay, ideas and notes still being exchanged between us.

\-----------

The door to Ratchet's quarters slides open and I have to wonder what has gotten Aid huddling into himself as he all but slides around the doorframe. "Aid?"

My query gets me a sheepish smile as he goes straight to his favourite chair and curls up. "Why would Jazz want to know if I needed lessons on how to use a whip?"

"Glitch." I mutter as I put my bookfile down as Ratchet maneuvres through the door, nine cubes of energon teetering in his arms, testament to a successful dispensor raid. "Jazz is just teasing you." I reassure the Protectobot as we both help to unstack the cubes onto a small table.

"So, uhhhhm, what now?" Aid asks as he looks between us.

"Now you grab a cube of energon and relax." Ratchet says as he does just that, his recliner creaking under his weight as he sprawls loose limbed across it. With his favourite chair claimed Aid perches himself next to me and I can already feel my fingers itching to sooth all the cables pulled taught with nerves. His entire frame coiled tight and just waiting for clever fingers to smooth out all the kinked wires.

"Sorry." he mutters after a moment of tightly clutching his drink and nervously watching us.

"Come here." I don't give him a chance to resist as I haul him into my lap where he freezes, clearly not knowing where to rest his hands. "Relax, you're far too tense, we're not going to bite."

"Unless you ask us too." Ratchet adds from his corner and I have to stifle the urge to throw my empty cube at him. He really isn't helping. 

I let my hands wander, gently stroking over his back, feeling the agitated thrum of his engine settle into a contented rumble as he lets himself lean against my chassis, systems slowly settling and heading towards recharge. He doesn't seem to notice as Ratchet comes over and plucks the remaining energon out of his hand. He does however notice when I let my hand drift into a seam in his armour on his side.

His optics power back up as he lets out a startled buzz of static. "That... what did you just do?" I oblige him by stroking across the wiring again, his surprise fading as he presses towards me. "Feels... nice."

"Good. Do you want to move to the berth? The couch isn't big enough for three." He jumps as he finally realises that Ratchet is no longer in the other chair and is instead crouched down beside us. A shy nod is all I get as he hooks his arms around my helm, his face pressing into my armour.

"No matter what he says, he won't bite." I prompt when Aid doesnt uncurl from around my chassis. "Although you can bite him if you want." That gets the response I am expecting as he draws back to look at me and then over at Ratchet who has settled himself on the berth. "Aim for the chevron." I say as he finally lets go of me and awkwardly clambers onto the berth, tentatively settling across Ratchet's thighs.

Moving up behind him I lace my fingers with his, guiding him to tease at seams and gaps in Ratchet's armour until he starts to move with more confidence. "Like this?"

"Like that." I reach around, letting my own fingers dig into a seam, "Don't be afraid of hurting him, he'll tell you if its not good." I suit actions to words, tightening my grip around a small handful of wires and tugging. Ratchet yelps, more in surprise than pain as First Aid gently settles the wires back into place.

"That didn't hurt?" The Protectobot asks as he rests his hand over the abused wires.

"Yes. No. Well." Ratchet tilts his helm slightly before obviously coming up with a way to explain. "Yes, but I'd quite like it if you did it again." An upward push of his hips emphasises his request.

"See. not hurting him." I murmur as I return to what I started on the couch, mapping out any sensitive areas on his frame. A yelp from Ratchet lets me know that First Aid is taking my words to spark. Or possibly it could just be that he reflexively clenched his fingers when I brushed over something sensitive. But the end result is the same as Ratchet's cooling fans turn on and the rumble of his engine kicks up a notch and Aid seems to gather his courage.

By the time I have worked my way around his frame to lightly wrap my hands around his thighs, just brushing against his panel, his fans are running full blast and Ratchet is faring no better, his hands gripping the mesh of the berth, no doubt to stop himself from simply flipping First Aid over and ravishing him, and while I'd like to see that it might well have the Protectobot running and not looking back.

"Hoist?" Ratchet asks as I pull myself away from the Protectobot and off the berth.

"One astrosec." I say as I root around in one of the cabinets. "Here. Think these might help." First Aid's face is a picture as he stares at what I am holding up, not having his facemask present only heightening the visible emotion. On the other hand Ratchet just huffs as I move back to the berth.

"Hoist?" This time it is First Aid that speaks as I hand them over, letting him turn the cuffs over in his hands as I settle back in behind him.

"There's a loop on the wall that you can clip them to." I smirk at Ratchet over First Aid's shoulder. "You seemed to be having fun holding him down, but it's always nice to have your hands free." I don't think that Aid had noticed that the hand that he hadn't been using to explore had been firmly keeping one of Ratchet's arms pressed to the berth.

"Oh." He says as he looks between the cuffs and Ratchet, who obligingly gives the Protectobot his wrists.

"Better." I purr as First Aid settles back down, lightly tracing a finger across Ratchet's thighs, making the older medic grumble as he twitches. And with the way Aid's optical band has lit up I think he's just decided that he likes being the one in charge for once. Or at least, in charge of Ratchet.

Wrapping my arms around his waist I brush across his interface panel again. "Open up." He ducks his helm for a moment before complying. "Have you touched yourself before?"

"A few times." He says as he lowers his head again, a faint tinge of embarrassment curling through his field. That is quick to disappear as I wrap one hand around his spike, gently stroking it till he is fully extended, the other circling around his valve entrance.

The buzz of static from his vocaliser creates a lovely counterpoint to Ratchet's growl of frustration as he watches us, optics bright with lust. "Look at him Aid." The Protectobots optics flicker back on as he tries to simultaneously thrust into my hand and press back against the warmth of my chassis. "See why we had to tie him down." The sound of Ratchet's interface panel snapping open as he snarls at us is loud. "He gets so impatient."

I bring the fingers that were teasing at Aid's valve up to my mouth, slowly cleaning them off. "He needs to learn that good things come to those who wait."

"Go on, touch." I encourage as Aid tentatively runs a finger down Ratchet's spike, looking up at him to see if it's alright. "He's not in charge here, we are."

I just laugh as Ratchet curses me and tries to press his hips up into Aid's teasingly light hands, the Protectobot clearly trying to focus on Ratchet but being distracted by the fact that I still have a hand around his spike. "Go on and take him Aid. It's what he wants."

"But, ah," he switches to a private comm, anxiety barely hidden in the quiet tone, ::all the guides said that a mech needs to be prepared first.:: 

I respond the same way, layering my broadcast with glyphs for certainty ::Usually, yes, but trust me, he's ready.:: I'd let Ratchet explain masochism to him at a later date.

He hisses as he sinks into Ratchet, his armour flaring as he stills himself when he is buried to the hilt. "Why have I never done this before?"

"I have no idea, but if you would move I'd greatly appreciate it." Ratchet says in a tone somewhat approaching normal, only the slight hitch halfway through betraying him but it does the trick as Aid pulls out, slowly working out how to move as he adjusts his hips to find the best angle.

Now this is something to flag in my memory files, First Aid slowly fragging Ratchet, till he's all but begging. I release my own spike with a sigh of relief, my hand already wrapping around it.

First Aid finally gives a static laced cry, his armour quivering before his frame goes limp, the whirr of systems resetting and rebooting filling the room. It takes a moment before he pushes himself up on shaky arms from where he had sprawled across Ratchet's frame, the older medic vibrating with barely restrained tension.

"Aid, come here." Ratchet beckons as best he can with his hands above his head, but the younger mech seems to understand what he wants as I help him to move until his frame starts to respond to his commands again. He has to fling out both arms to brace against the wall as Ratchet swipes his glossa across his valve entrance.

::Hoist. You. Spike. Valve. Now.:: The comm. is laced with command imperatives and a sense of urgency. Which I duly ignore as I line myself up and enter his valve as slowly as I can, his curses transmitting clearly across the link as he wraps his legs around my frame, using his greater strength to pull me all the way in. ::Frag me before I take you over a berth in the med bay so hard you wont be able to walk.:: A moment passes before he amends his threat, after all, it wasn't much of a deterrent. ::Frag me before I refuse to take you over a berth in medbay!::

That, on the other hand, is quite an ultimatum. He wants to be fragged I can oblige as I pull out and slam back in, his grunt muffled by First Aid's valve. I'll have to remember that as a method of keeping him quiet.

Aid manages to stay upright and active as his second overload washes over his frame, his components still highly sensitive as Ratchet practically screams down the comm. line at me as his valve tightens in a wave of compressing metal.

I don't have much choice but to follow them both into post overload bliss as we collapse into a pile. It takes a while before I finally haul myself to one side, pulling Aid into the gap between us, the Protectobot already heading towards recharge.

"One of you going to untie me?"

"Later." I say, curling an arm around Aid to stop him hitting the release. "Keep him tied up. It means he can't go to the medbay early, and he'll still be here when we wake up."

Aid settles back down without complaint, using Ratchet's shoulder as a pillow. "I like that idea."


	8. Necessary Education II

I feel the purr of First Aid's systems cycling back up well before he freezes. his processor catching up to the fact that he isn't where he normally recharges. "Ratchet? Hoist?"

"Morning Aid." I reply, keeping my voice quiet as I unwind the arm that had been pinning him down.

"Morning. Ratchet's still in recharge?" First Aid asks as he carefully shuffles around, careful not to jolt the larger mech as he clambers over him to get off the berth and stretch out his cabling.

"Nothing short of an emergency comm will wake him at the moment." With how often he puts such routine maintenance off he generally ends up in deep stasis every so often when he finally feels safe enough to run a full defrag.

"Are we just going to leave him?" Aid sounds very unsure as I join him, his hands hovering over Ratchet's plating, scuffs, scratches and dried transfluid clearly visible as evidence of our fun.

"Like that? No." I tilt my helm before tapping Aid on the shoulder and leading him to a small cabinet in the corner of the room. "I have a much better idea."

I ignore the hitch in the ventilation cycles beside me, although I can easily imagine the shocked expression as he lets his optics roam over the contents.

"You have a collar?!" He gingerly picks the item in question up as he turns his helm to look directly at me.

"That's Ratchets." I pull out a slightly smaller one and hold it out to the Protectobot. "This one's mine." He takes it from my hand by reflex before carefully putting them both down on the shelf, although not before he gives a soft buzz of amusement at the engravings on the tags.

"'If found, please return to medbay'?" He reads off, curiousity clearly overcoming the trepidation and vague hints of shyness swirling in his electromagnetic field.

"Wheeljack bought them for us after some mech said he may as well get himself his own medics with how often he blows himself up."

"Oh." He takes a quick peek behind him at the still offline form on the berth. "You wear them?"

I chuckle, he really can't seem to decide between being embarrassed, curious, and a faint barely there tinge of excitement. "Ratchet does." I finally find what I'm looking for as Aid gives Ratchet a second, longer glance. "Here, hold these." I pass the two items I had been searching for, and then on a whim I grab Ratchets collar as well before shutting the cabinet.

"Are you really sure he won't mind?" First Aid asks as I gently slip the intricately woven metal around Ratchet's neck, the clasp fastening with a soft click.

Gesturing Aid back up onto the berth I let my mouth curl up into a smirk, "Absolutely sure." I shake my head when he tries to give me the other two things and instead I gesture towards Ratchet; it shouldn't be hard to work out what they are for, not when he is sprawled out with his interface panelling still open.

Aid proves to be as adept at figuring them out as he was at working out medical instruments and with several more glances at me to be sure that he is doing it right he quickly has everything set up. By the time Ratchet onlines he'll probably be running hot and ready for us.

"Good. Now come over here." I purr, pulling him back into my arms as I settle in the space at the bottom of the berth. He doesn't resist, letting himself be propped up against my frame. "Now we just have to entertain ourselves till he comes online." And I know exactly how I want to be entertained.

The low thrum of his cooling fans coming online letting me know that he isn't adverse to the plan and he opens his panel as soon as I tap it. He purrs as I play with him, his helm tipped back onto my shoulder, optics offline as he lets himself relax against my frame.

He jerks with a yelp of surprise, optics flashing back on, as I ease a finger all the way into his valve before stilling, letting him wiggle around and get used to it before I start to move, trying to find all the sensors that I know are there.

He moans as I start to work a second finger inside him, his valve slowly stretching around me, the metal rippling.

"Hoist? I." He ducks his helm as soon as he starts to speak and I still my hands, letting his valve clench around my fingers as he squirms.

"I what?" I ask.

"Nothing." I don't move, his frustrated whine echoing round the room.

"Communication is the basis of interfacing Aid, what were you going to say?" When he finally speaks it is quiet and jumbled together as shame flares strongly in his field, and that is something I don't want. No mech should ever be ashamed of there desires.

"All you had to do was ask." I reassure him as I remove my fingers from his valve and spike. "Switch places with me." I pretend I don't notice his fumbling as he clambers around me, my own panel sliding back with an audible click.

"Easy Aid." I lean forward, letting my arms take my weight as I lean over Ratchet, baring my valve to Aid. "Relax, I'm not judging you, do whatever feels good to you."

The first touch is hesitant, a fleeting contact that has me pushing backwards ever so slightly, chasing the feeling. The second touch is stronger as he explores, letting his fingers slide around the entrance to my valve before one eases inside. It takes all my will power not to push backwards and force the teasing digit deeper.

"Stop that." He says, the clang of his hand meeting my aft ringing round the room. With the thickness of our armour I barely felt it beyond impact reports from the sensors, but it is so unexpected that I instinctively lock my joints. "Better." He returns to what feels to be an inspection of my valve in the most slow and torturous way possible.

I can't stop the keen that escapes my vocaliser when he finally enters me, pushing his spike in to the hilt before he pulls out and slides in just as slowly.

"Aid!" I growl as I push back against him.

"You said to do what feels good." He replies and I can't suppress the moan as pulls out again, running his fingers around the rim of my valve before sheathing his spike again. "This feels good." Amusement washes through his electromagnetic field as he drapes himself over my back and I have to admire his restraint. "Ratchet's not the only one who likes to be given orders, is he?"

Nowhere in any of the ideas that myself and Ratchet had passed between us involved First Aid; least confrontational and authorative mech on the Arc deciding he liked to be in charge in the berth. The confirmation of his question slips from my vocaliser before I can censor it and I have to hasten to clarify that I don't mind either way.

His quiet laughter as he finally starts thrusting again, this time at a faster and not designed to torture speed, leaves me wondering whether I should be scared at what we seem to have unleashed.

Hands wrapping around my shoulder blades, and all the sensors inside them, send me into a hard overload, my vision dissolving into static. I am glad of the joint locks I set up earlier as First Aid shudders under the barrage of excess electrical charge and collapses across my back.

My vision has just rebooted, and Aid isn't quite a dead weight when a strangled whimper from below lets us know that Ratchet is finally online, First Aid's chirpy 'good morning' getting a moan that could have been a response.

"How are you feeling?" Aid asks as he peers over my shoulder, a bright mischievous grin plastered on his face as his field swirls with satisfaction.

Ratchet shudders as he wrestles his systems under control enough to answer. "Frustrated." His hips twist, the vibrator First Aid so carefully worked into his valve earlier merely moving with him, the gentle thrum not enough to overload him. "Slagging glitches." He says as he realises that his arms aren't the only thing restrained as he can't move his legs either.

"Ah ah. That's no way to talk to us." I smirk. "We might just leave you like this. In fact, I could probably make a lesson out of it for Aid. How frustrated can Ratchet get before he starts begging."

If looks could kill I'd be off to speak to Primus, but instead the highly annoyed glare only makes me laugh.

"How long would such a lesson take?" First Aid sounds professionally curious as he unwraps himself from my frame and shuffles up beside me. Then he shows once again just how fast he learns by poking a finger into Ratchet's hip joint and tugging at the wiring. "Because I think that would be quite interesting." The hand moves from the hip to his valve before he speaks again, brushing over the edge. "What do you think Ratchet?"

"I think you should move straight to the end of the lesson, where one of you frags me." He says through gritted dente as First Aid grabs hold of the vibrator, pulling it out to regard it for a moment as he holds it out on his palm.

"I think I prefer Hoist's plan." He finally says, returning it to its previous position, Ratchet's moan making him laugh as he twists his helm up to look at me. "So, you have things to teach me?"


End file.
